Sometimes
by Pantz
Summary: [Ficlet: One Shot]“You know I really do love you, Malfoy.”


_**Disclaimer: Everything from HP books belongs to JK Rowling**_

_**Sometimes**_

They fell in love with each other when they were fifteen.

She always wore her hair cascading down her back and her black eyes were always sparkling with some kind of excitement, some kind of darkness. On game days she wore green and silver ribbons in her hair as she sat in the rain or sun for hours cheering for him. She stood in the narrow hallways tripping Gryffindors as they walked passed and every night she met him in the common room and shared whiskey out of a transparent bottle.

His eyes were always cold and his hair was always gelled and, so what if he said cruel remarks, so what if he didn't know the first thing about love, because really, at fifteen and sixteen, she didn't know much either. He wore green quidditch robes a few times a week and smiled sweetly to teachers as they passed by in the hallway. He hexed the wizarding world's hero whenever he felt like it and at dinner he sometimes poured her pumpkin juice adding a little surprise of his own.

And they were in love. It was very… beautiful in its own way. They were slytherins, cold and heartless to the core, but when they were with each other warmth spread throughout their bodies and they forgot they were just supposed to be hard shells of what was once a human, forget how **not** to feel. It wasn't what you would imagine. She didn't love him because of the money and he didn't love her because of her good name. It was all very real, very exquisite.

He would smirk at her and wink when he found it necessary. He would make snide comments to her about mudbloods, rant about Gryffindors and those spineless Hufflepuffs, before turning cold eyes on her and saying she really was a bitch. She would laugh at his coldness. _"Malfoy, you know your cruelty is wasted on me"_ she would say and smile darkly,_ never brightly,_ as he grabbed her hand a squeezed it way too tight. _"Unfortunately for me, Parkinson." _He mocked as she kissed his lips, as she laughed as if he said some deranged joke.

They drank whiskey at night out of crystal glasses and munched on crumpets dusted with sugar. They danced in the moonlight as she hummed a tune quietly in his ear, as they closed their eyes and pretended to be feasting in a cemetery, pretend to be drinking their whiskey while sitting on a grave. They felt coldness prickling up their spines and heard whispers of the dead in their ears and every few moments she looked at him and laughed. _"You know I really do love you, Malfoy." _She would say. And sometimes, _sometimes_, he would lean in close and whisper that he loves her, too.

They would walk together in the rain. Dance to the lightening striking trees, dance to the wind howling in the air around them. He would twirl her as she laughed into the night, as her black eyes glowed through the darkness. They drank spiced pumpkin juice at every meal and ate the pot roast with all the formality due to slytherins. He spiked her juice without her knowledge, and sometimes at night, as their dorm mates slept, they snuck into dungeons and kissed in the potions classroom.

Their breakup was very dramatic, very them. He said he hated her. That she was annoying and clingy and that there were many more beautiful girls in the school than her. He said that she was wasting his time. That he could have been living while he sat in the common room with her, had a life as he drank their outdated whiskey. He never really understood why he broke up with her. Never had an answer for her when she asked.

She threw a vase at his head as she cried noisy tears. Her black mascara ran in clumps down her cheeks and her usually pretty face looked hideous in the firelight. She slapped him in the face and kicked him in his privates and after, when he was lying on the floor, she just stared into his cold, gray eyes knowing that this was it, that it was over.

He stared into her heartbroken face and tried to smirk coldly as she cried. He tried making sarcastic remarks and, _one time_, tried to explain to her why he had to go, why he couldn't love her although he didn't truly know himself. She turned away and stood by the window as the rain poured harshly outside. _"You know I really did love you, Malfoy."_ She had said quietly as the heartbreak sunk in, as she began to walk away. And he watched her leave, watched her walking away with her head held high and silent tears still running down her face. _"You know, I really did love you, too."_ He said after she was already gone.

The next few months their relationship fell apart. They no longer walked down the hallways, no longer sat at meals together ranting about the daily annoyances of life, of school. She sat with Millicent drinking spiced, pumpkin juice that wasn't spike and laughed at the jokes Blaise would whisper in her ear. He sat with Crabbe and Goyle as he cut his pot roast into little pieces and winked at the cute Ravenclaw sitting at the table over, at the Slytherin he never noticed until then.

He sometimes flirted with Gryffindors in class and got a slight kick out of the discreet glares she sent his way. He sometimes watched her talking to Blaise in the common room, and sometimes felt like punching Blaise until he was permanently in the hospital wing. She sometimes sat up at night wondered what she did wrong and sometimes asked Millicent if she should try to get him back, if there was something wrong with her. She sometimes wrote in her diary how ravishing he looked that day and sometimes stared at him at quidditch matches, two ribbons tying up her hair.

Two months after the breakup she caught him kissing Hannah Bones in a secluded corner of the library. She laughed when she saw him and smirked cruelly saying something about how he demeaned himself by touching a Hufflepuff. Then she walked out of the library to her dorm room and cried silent tears throwing her crystal whiskey glass against the wall and watching it break into little pieces.

She didn't speak to him again until seventh year. Didn't speak to him until one night when a storm was raging outside her window and she walked down to the common room because she remembered last year how it would put her to sleep. And she saw him sitting there, a whiskey bottle on the table and a crystal cup in his hand, and she felt a longing to take the whiskey and drink the bottle of it. When he saw her he didn't speak, he just poured her a glass of whiskey from his cup and they sat with each other until every last drop of alcohol was gone.

That was years ago and she's grown up since then, gotten over him since then. She sometimes feels as if she could conquer the world, feels a strength she never knew before. She sometimes feels independent and free and sometimes puts her green ribbons in her hair because, well just because she feels like it. She sometimes sits on the balcony in her flat and dances alone as it rains or snows. She sometimes twirls around her balcony alone and closes her eyes and imagines he's there. And sometimes she misses him. Sometimes she stares at old pictures, looks out her window, and wonders what he's doing, wonders if he ever thinks about her. But really, it's only sometimes._ But really, it's only always._

**End (a bit odd I know)**

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